Come Rescue Me
by Pariseiffle
Summary: Alan's falling apart. Can his family help him pick himself back up? Movie-Verse, rated to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Thunderbirds. I mean, if I did, there would be so much more Alan!Whump. But nope, I don't!**

**Sorry for any OOC-ness, this is my first Thunderbirds Fanfic, so hopefully it's not too bad. Movie-Verse.**

The blade that crossed my arms wasn't one for being sharp. It wasn't sharp enough to slice into my skin without a problem. Without it hurting.

No.

The blade that crossed my skin was old, rusty and not sharp at all. It hurt like a bitch as it crossed my wrists, drawing out my blood. My blood. Blood that didn't matter in this life. From a body that was torn and ruined. Not something anyone needed in their lives.

Outside, I could hear my brothers splashing around in the pool, laughing, cheering, having a great time.

And why not? Another rescue had finished. Finished with flying colours. We'd saved everyone who needed saving, and that's all that mattered.

It mattered to me too, it really did.

I just wish that my family could see that I needed saving too.

I needed to be saved by my family, from my own mind, and my own doubts.

A knock on my door had me jumping slightly, the blade pushing into an already open cut harder, sending a spasm of pain through me.

But pain was good.

I deserved it.

Even if I wanted to be saved, I didn't deserve it. I was nothing but a burden.

A mistake.

I mean, how else do you explain the age gap between Gordon and myself? Everyone else was a year to two years, then me. Four damn years.

It didn't take a genius to figure it out.

"Alan?"

I shook myself out of my daze, and tore my sleeves down while pushing the blade under my pillow. I wiped the blood that was dribbling down my wrists and onto my hands, across the covers on my bed, before covering it with a rug.

"Come in!" I hated how my voice shook, but ignored it for the time being.

My door opened and my father poked his head in.

Jeff Tracy.

He had four amazing sons as it was, he didn't need a pathetic loser like me.

No one needed a pathetic loser like me.

"Are you okay?" He didn't close the door behind him; instead he just stood a little inside my door, sending me a worried look.

"Of course."

He sighed, his eyes sliding shut, making him look younger. He wasn't too old as it was, but looked the age of an seventy year old man.

Many of his wrinkles came from worry, or just, maybe, having a burden like me to deal with.

"Your brothers are worried about you." His eyes opened as he locked gazes with me, "and so am I."

Yeah, right. The brothers that teased me all my life, expected me to screw up in everything I did. They were basically harbouring next to physical bullying, already hitting the mental and verbal bullying stage.

They didn't care about me.

And my father, Jeff Tracy? Don't make me laugh. He happily shipped me off to boarding schools, schools I didn't even like. But did he care? No.

No one cared.

If Fermat was here, I would go and talk to him about this, he could probably help me with these feelings swirling around angrily inside me. But Fermat and Brains were on Thunderbird 5, taking their own rotation together, to allow John a break after the tragedy of Spring Break.

Tin-Tin would be the next person I'd go too.

But her parents had taken to her to Hawaii for a couple weeks. Jeff had given then time off, to collect as a family and understand each other better. He also believed Tin-Tin needed a break after the tragic Spring Break.

So, that left me and my family here alone.

I had no one to turn to, no one to run too.

"I'm fine," I pressed on, standing up and brushing past him, into the hallway.

"Alan," he spoke again, but I ignored him, "we need to talk."

"About?"

I heard him step out of my room and follow me down the hallway. I moved myself down into the kitchen, passing through the lounge and outside the back patio door.

Gordon was splashing Virgil, much to the latter's misery, and Scott was grinning as he sat at the side, his legs and feet in the water.

John was lazing on the seat next to the pool, watching as Virgil dove for Gordon, pushing the fish-boy under.

As I stepped out into the open, all the commotion stopped.

Virgil and Gordon froze, Scott's chuckling stopped and John looked up.

It made me feel awkward. Like I wasn't wanted.

_But that's because you're not wanted._

I shook my head, dismissing the thoughts quickly.

"Alan, come back here," my father was saying as he too stepped out onto the back patio. He didn't seem fazed by the tense moment and instead hurried forward, grabbing my wrist, making me hiss as I spun around.

His eyes softened as his grip loosened, but that didn't stop the pressure from building up around my cuts there. Cuts that made me feel even worse.

I was a Tracy, for Christ sake. I'm stronger than this.

Or, I should be, at least.

"Come to my office," my father spoke quietly, something quite rare for him. And then he looked up, over at the pool, "all of you."

"What's going on?" Scott questioned, already standing up, his legs dripping with water as he took long strides over to me and our father.

Jeff's grip tightened on my wrist, making me wince as I felt fresh blood spurt out of one of my cuts.

I had to clean it. Desperately.

I pulled away from my dad's grip, ducking my head down as he glanced at me, worry etched across his wrinkling face.

"Alan?"

"I need to use the bathroom." I managed, turning and quickly rushing off, taking the steps two at a time.

Once I was in the bathroom, I locked the door, and then pressed my back against it for good measure.

I was so pathetic. I really was.

I shouldn't be falling this low. I shouldn't be the one in need of help.

No.

This was all messed up.

I sniffled, running my sleeve across my face and then standing up, turning the sink on. Water gushed out and into the basin, and I scrambled through the first aid kid, hoping to find something to help clean it up better, but I realized in dismay that it was all in the infirmary.

I huffed to myself, moving to the door and opening it a crack, peaking out.

The cost was clear.

I stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door gently behind me, and then scrambled down the hallway, down to the infirmary. I opened and closed those doors gently too, taking care and pride in not being caught.

Being caught would lead to questions. Questions I wouldn't be able to answer.

I moved over to the medical cabinet, opening it gently and reaching in for the betadine. I pulled it out and grabbed a fresh bandage, which I folded up and dumped some of the betadine on, I then dabbed at my cuts, hissing at the sting of the contact.

Normally, I wouldn't bother with this. But if dad wanted to have a meeting, I could risk blood pouring down my fingers.

I couldn't risk anything.

"Alan?" Virgil's voice filled the room, and I gasped, looking over my shoulder as the infirmary door opened a crack, "Alan, what are you doing in here?"

I looked down at the bloody brown mess I had made on my wrists, and then back over my shoulder.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. No, no, no, no.

"I thought you were in the bathroom." Virgil spoke up as the door shut behind him, "what are you doing?"

"Um," I murmured, scrunching up the bandage and shoving it in my pocket as I tore my sleeves down, "I just have a bit of a headache."

"Oh..." Virgil dabbed at his wet hair with a towel as he stared at me, confusion flickering in his eyes, "the pain killers are on the other side of the room."

I felt my cheeks heat up as I slipped the betadine back into the cabinet and shut it, "oh, I guess that's why I was so confused."

"Uh-huh," Virgil blinked at me, then turned to his desk, picking up a bunch of files, "we're all waiting in dad's office, so just come there when you're done, yeah?"

"Yeah." I nodded, opening the other cupboard and pretending to reach in there, up until Virgil's back disappeared out the door, and I sighed in relief, moving back to the other cupboard to finish my job.

When I had everything cleaned up, I turned and left the infirmary, moving to my father's office, with the label on his door, clearly stating it was: Jefferson Tracy's Office.

I stopped outside the door, hearing the voices of my brothers and my father as they mingled together. My palms were sweating, and I was unsure of what to expect. But, I knew I would have to enter their sooner or later.

And it was always better to get things over and done with, so I assume it would be sooner, rather than later.

I pressed down on the handle, stepping into the room, and almost instantly did it go quiet.

Dad was sitting at his desk, Gordon sitting on the couch off to the side, and Scott and Virgil had been talking in hushed voices by the window, but were now staring at me. John was standing next to dad's desk, his platinum blonde hair shining in the light of the room.

"Alan." My father sighed, standing up, "come," he gestured for me to move forward, and then pointed at the seat in front of his desk, "sit."

I hesitated for a moment.

I couldn't be sure if I was in trouble.

The debriefing about our previous mission had gone quite swell, I don't think I screwed up to much in the rescue, and I can't trace back to anything I had done that was bad, that would deserve a lecture. Especially bad enough that all my brothers had to be here.

I know that dad wanted to talk to me.

But, couldn't he do that when it was just us?

"You're not in trouble," John spoke up, sending me a warm smile, which I shot back, although a little shaky. "Come and sit."

I nodded a little, moving forward and tugging on my sleeves as I sat in the seat, albeit hesitantly.

When I was situated in the seat, father leaned forward, resting his hands on the table as he stared at me with those eyes of me.

"Alan..." He breathed, shutting his eyes, then snapping them open again and looking at me sternly, but... But he still managed to look gentle. "Alan, you know you can talk to us, right?"

I bit my lip. No, I didn't know.

But I wouldn't let them know that.

No, instead I nodded, moving forward a little and tucking my arms around my stomach, the wrists facing inwards.

"We've, uh, well, we've received a bit of... Interesting information, from the camera's set up around the house."

"Cameras?" I echoed, confused. I didn't know we had camera's all over the house. I know we had surveillance cameras in the backyard, and randomly around the island, and in the silo's, and the infirmary, but not _in_ the house otherwise.

"They were mostly a precaution, in case something like Spring Break happened again," my dad continued, and I flinched as I remembered the close encounter I had had with being the last Tracy in the world, and then the near death experience. "But, well, we've picked up something else."

His gaze only barely flickered across my arms, and John visibly tensed next to him. Out the corner of my eyes, I saw Scott and Virgil shuffle nervously, and Gordon nibbling on his lower lip, which quickly turned to his nails.

"Oh?" Play it cool, Alan. Play it cool.

"Answer something for me, Alan. And I want you to be as truthful as possible."

I felt my stomach sink at his words.

They knew.

"Okay."

My father sighed, pushing against the desk as he stood up. He looked a lot older now.

I was doing this. I was pressuring my father, making him sick. Making him worry. I didn't want him to worry.

"Alan, Allie, are you... Happy?"

My breathing hitched at that.

Was I happy? I didn't know.

I felt happy, knowing that my family was safe. But, deep inside, where my treacherous feelings boiled, I let out my true monster. My true, unhappy, monster.

Happy.

I was happy when I wasn't by myself. Because, if I was by myself, the thoughts could catch up and devour my maturity and any part of me that tried to make sense. Being alone would do that to anyone.

"Why?"

Dad shook his head, moving around the desk to rest against it, just in front of me.

"It's a simple, yes, no, answer."

He leaned forward, catching my hands in his gently. Behind me, hands connected with my shoulders, digging in soothingly, relaxing me.

My gaze flickered around to the brothers I could see, which was everyone, except Gordon, proving who was standing behind me, pushing the tension from my body.

"They only want to know the answer, Allie. No one's going to judge you, I promise." My father rubbed his thumb across my knuckles, and I flinched as he slowly slid them down to my wrists, catching me off guard only slightly. "You don't seem happy."

"I-I'm-" I was cut off as my father's hands pushed at my sleeves, and he slowly, ever so slowly, turned my arms over. "I-"

John's shoulders tensed as his gaze flickered across my arms, and I watched as Scott ran a hand over his face, while Virgil just covered his mouth. Behind me, Gordon's breathing hitched slightly, and I felt his hands tremble against my shoulders as he continued to push his fingers into the tight knots in my skin.

"Oh, Allie," my father sighed, shaking his head a little as he stared up at me. I could feel the water works as they pushed at the back of my eyes, but Ii fought to control them. "Oh, baby, my baby boy."

He stood up straight, pulling me up to my feet. Gordon's hands dropped from my shoulders, and instantly my father's arms wrapped around me. He pressed my head into his shoulder, while his other hand ran soothing circles along my back.

"Don't hate me," I managed to gasp out, while trying to keep the tears at bay. "Please. Please, don't hate me."

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I could never hate you, Allie. None of us could. Your brothers love you. I love you. It's going to be okay."

I nodded, feeling numb as a tear pushed its way free. One tear easily lead to many. And before I knew it, I couldn't see anything because of the tears blurring my vision.

"Scott," my father called after a while, "Scott, take your brother."

I felt a hand on my back a second later, and then Scott's scent as he wrapped me up in a hug. This was the smell I had come accustomed too. Scott had practically raised me, when my own father was so caught up in work.

And I didn't blame him, or hate him for that.

His working kept food on the table and gave us an education, and lead to this beautiful paradise, where we helped those in need.

"Hey, Allie," Scott whispered, rubbing my back, "you're going to be okay, yeah?"

I hiccupped against his chest, nodding against his warmth.

"I'm going to contact Brains and Fermat, see if they could possibly stay up on Five for a little longer," my father said, and I felt his presence move away from me, only to be replaced with three others. "I'll also contact the Kyrano's, tell them to take their vacation for a while longer."

"Maybe we should put IR off for a while, just a couple weeks." Gordon spoke up, and I wanted to pull back and decline that straight away, but Scott's larger hand cupped the back of my head, halting any movement I wanted to make.

"Dad," John murmured, his hand joining Scott's to rub my back gently, "this is more serious than we first thought."

"I'm aware," dad replied with a sigh, and I choked on a sob.

I didn't want them to find out. I knew this would happen. They would take it upon themselves to stop everything for a while, and get frustrated with it, only to take that anger out on me.

I knew this would happen.

"Shh, shh," John whispered, and Scott kissed my temple, much like dad had before. "It's okay."

But it wasn't.

"We'll get through this."

I was desperate to shake them off, to tell them we wouldn't, but I knew it was too late now, and all I could do, was hope that they were right.

Things would start to get better. Eventually. Hopefully.

And when that happened, I would feel better. Maybe my bond with my family would be stronger, but in all reality, only time would tell.

It just meant I had to trust them.

And that, I think, is something I could do.

**Well, I hope you liked it. Feel free to drop a review! But, I don't want any hate. No one forced you to read this, so I don't expect anything rude. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

I hadn't planned on continuing this, but some of your reviews were really inspiring, a few of you wanted me to continue, so I'll try to push on, turn it into a longer story. Although, my updates will be irregular, because I have other accounts with other stories. But I'll do my best.

I found myself sitting in the infirmary, my wrists stretched out in front of me, as Virgil applied betadine to my ugly cuts. The brown liquid poured across my wrists, stinging me, and then dribbled onto the red cloth that Gordon was holding beneath my hands. My immediate older brothers nose wrinkled at the smell, but besides of that, he kept a straight face.

Our Father had called Lady Penelope, who supposedly promised to deal with International Rescue while we figured out our Family Issues.

But I didn't want to figure out our "Family Issues." They weren't family issues. They were my issues.

"Sorry," Virgil apologised as I winced from a rather large sting. He grabbed a bandage, while Gordon stood up straight and wiped the betadine away that wasn't on my cuts, but just being a hassle.

The infirmary doors slid open, and Scott walked in with a tall glass of cold water. My eldest brother came over and sat next to me, wrapping his strong arms around my thin shoulders. He pushed the glass to my shaking lips, and I allowed him to tip my head back as Virgil wrapped my wrists up. The cold water dribbled down my parched throat, and a few droplets fell down my chin. But I welcomed it all.

The infirmary doors opened once more, and my Father and John wandered in. The infirmary was suddenly feeling crowded, and I didn't like it. There were to many people. I was going to suffocate.

"Alan," my Father spoke, his voice firm, but his tone soft. Gordon moved from his position in front of me, and I wanted to reach out to him, to make him stay, but my voice wasn't working. So my Dad took his spot. Jefferson Tracy, ex-astronaut and Air Force Colonel. He was the Founder of International Rescue, the Head of the Thunderbirds. He didn't have time to look out for pathetic old me.

I glanced at my feet as they hung over the side of the infirmary bed, but my Fathers cold fingers hooked under my chin, tilting my head up. His light eyes stared into my blue ones, as if searching.

"Can you tell me why?"

No. I can't. You wouldn't do anything about it. Hell, it's not like you care anyway.  
I tore my chin from his grip and glanced at my hands. I never wanted to be in this situation. I thought I could keep this one thing a secret.

But apparently not.

I wasn't good at secrets like my brothers. I wasn't good at anything like my brothers. They were all Perfect. And I was surprised that I hadn't even outed that my family was International Rescue.

"Alan." His voice grew a fraction more stern, and his fingers were hooking under my chin again, this time though, when I met his gaze, his eyes were full of dread and worry. "Tell me."

I nibbled my lower lip, gulping audibly and feeling my palms turn sweaty.

"The teasing," I managed to get out, although I wasn't to sure if I was heard. But at that second, I was to anxious to care. "The age gap. The repeated sending me away. The fights."

Jefferson Tracy quirked an eyebrow, and I tore my chin from his grip again, looking at my hands and wrists.

"I'm not perfect like them." I tilted my head in the direction of my brothers, who were mostly scattered around on my left side. "I'm stupid. I barely pass school, and it's not like I do extra-curricular."

"I thought you did track," John cut in quickly, his hand coming out and connecting with my back in a comforting gesture.

I felt shame push down on me as I shook my head slowly.

"I quit."

Those two words still stabbed at my heart. No one wanted to quit what they loved. That would be like Gordon giving up on swimming, and Virgil refusing to paint or play one of his beautiful tunes on the piano. It'd be like John not writing the amazing books he conjured, or Scott just stopping everything to do with IR. It would be like Dad losing faith in the Thunderbirds.

"Why?!" Gordon sounded absolutely shell-shocked, but I didn't look up at him. "You love track!"

I nodded slowly, "but when am I ever going to need to save someone by being able to run? I just don't see how it works. I'm useless. I don't even understand why I'm alive."

The arm Scott had wrapped around me before, tensed. My eldest brother pulled me against him roughly, tapping me on the back of my head with his other hand.

"Don't ever say that," he scolded, his voice tight. "You have just as much purpose in life as any of us."

But I didn't.

And I knew that.

"We'll fix this." Dad said at last, after letting a horrid silence over take us. "Allie, I never want to hear you put yourself down again. Understood?"

"FAB," I mumbled under my breath, just feeling completely drawn.

"And from now on, you need to have at least one person with you. At all times."

I snapped my head up, a fight at the tip of my tongue. No, that wasn't fair.

"I know, Al. I know it sounds horrible and unjustified. But, I love you, Allie. And it must be hard for you to understand that now, but you're going to understand it eventually."

Silence once again deafened us, but, once again, it didn't last.

"I'll go and start cooking some lunch." Dad finally declared, stepping away from me.

"Who's going to help?"

"I think I'll hit the water," Gordon murmured, and then didn't waste any time in getting out of the infirmary. I tried to will myself to not feel hurt by his sudden willingness to get away from here. Maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was the smell of the infirmary.

...No, it was me.

"I'll be on the piano," Virgil spoke next, smiling apologetically at our Father as he wiped his hands on a sterile wipe. He walked out of the infirmary, leaving the three eldest Tracy's on the Island, and myself.

Scott and John seemed to share a look over my head, as if agreeing on something that I wasn't a part of.

"Allie and I will help you," Scott finally spoke up, and John ruffled my hair gently as he passed me, probably heading to his room.

Scott pulled me up off the small bed, and we followed our Father out of the infirmary and up to the kitchen. I didn't feel like telling them I wasn't hungry, that would just add to frustrating my family.

"Burgers for lunch?" Our Dad asked, pulling patties out of the fridge and passing them to Scott, who had opened the cupboard and pulled out some buns.

"Alan, why don't you cut up some tomatoes, cheese and lettuce?"

I tilted my head in a positive gesture as I reached for the fridge, pulling it open again as Scott and Dad started with setting up a pan, and pulling out spices. I grabbed seven tomatoes and the big block of cheese, pushing them onto the bench, before reaching for the ball of lettuce. When they were all spread across the bench, I reached for the knife draw, where my fingers twitched and froze.

I glanced over my shoulder, noticing that Scott and Dad both had their backs to me. I turned back to the draw and pulled it open, dipping my hand inside and grabbing the first knife I came across. I pulled it out and just stared at the sharp edge for a moment, watching it glint in the kitchen light. My finger slid across it, and I told myself it was just to see how sharp it was. But that's not what I was thinking as my finger slid open and blood dribbled out of a small cut I had made.

It was then that a larger hand cupped my own, pressing my hand and the knife to the bench. I tilted my head up at my father, who was grimacing as he stared at the blood dribbling down my finger. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a bandaid, which he wrapped around my finger.

"Good thing I come prepared," he tried to joke, but it came out strained. "Why don't you help Scott cook the patties?"

I blinked at him, then exhaled and moved to Scott, who had watched the whole scene as it happened. He sent me a weary smile as I stood next to him, and then went to drop the patties in the hot and sizzling pan.

"Can you watch them for a second?" Scott asked as he cut up some onions to cook alongside the patties.

"Sure," I muttered, taking a hold of the handle as Scott moved to the cupboard, reaching in and rifling though, as if looking for something. I glanced down at the hot pan, then back up at Scott, before glancing back down.

It would be quick. And just enough pain to show me that I was still in control. Nothing serious, just a bit of a burn.

I bit my lip, picking the pan up off the stove top, and planting my hand on the bottom of it. A fiery burn shot up my hand instantly, blistering my skin and searing my bones. Tears welled in my eyes almost instantly at the sensation, but I controlled myself as I bit my lip harder.

"Alan!"

The pan was ripped from my grip and slammed back onto the stove, and then Scott's arms were around me from behind as he managed to haul me over to the sink. He turned the cold tap on full blast, and shoved my blistering hand under the freezing water.

"Allie, stop this." Scott spoke directly into my ear, while brushing my hair back. I think I vaguely heard him telling Dad to get Virgil, but I wasn't to sure.

Virgil stepped next to me about three minutes later, a bandage and something green in his hands as he twisted the tap off. He squirted the green stuff onto my hand, the cool sensation soaking into my skin. I knew it was aloe Vera from the calming sensation that made my skin tingle. He wrapped the bandage around my hand nice and snug, then wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me away from the kitchen.

"I think you just need to relax, Allie. I know you probably don't trust us, and you're scared, but please stop doing this to yourself."

I inhaled, sitting down on the piano stool, while scooting over so he could sit down too. Virgil flexed his fingers, before placing them down and playing out some kind of tune. But it was a nice tune, which you could expect from Virgil. It started slowly, and hurried to a faster beat, but holding the same tune all the way through.

"Why'd you burn yourself?" He asked after a while of just playing. He didn't falter with his playing though, as he spoke to me.

I shrugged, watching as his fingers ran up and down the piano.

"Don't shrug, Al. You know why."

I shrugged again, "I need to be in control."

"You need to be-" Virgil cut himself off as his fingers stopped the lullaby. "Allie, you're always going to be in control of your own life. It's your life. You make all the choices. But that doesn't mean you should hurt yourself."

"But I'm worthless."

"You're not worthless." Virgil stressed, turning his body a little to face me. "You're our baby brother."

I shrugged again.

This was stupid. I was unfixable and stupid.

But mainly unfixable.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own the Thunderbirds. Which is really quite fustrating, but meh. We can't have everything!

Thank you so much for all your reviews! They all inspire me so much! There's a bunch of you who send such long and lovely paragraphs and they make me smile!

FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB FAB

I followed Virgil to the dining table when we were called for lunch. Gordon was there already, a towel around his waist and another one around his hair, collecting the water droplets that dribbled from the ends of his hair. Gordon sent me a smile, teeth and all, but I saw the way it wobbled.

I was doing this to him. I was just making it worse for everyone. I didn't understand why they were trying to help me. Why couldn't they just let me suffer? I was the cause of everything. Mum died cause of me. The Hood nearly killed all my friends and family because I didn't give him the control panel.

It was always me.

Scott was pouring orange juice into plastic cups around the table, as Dad set plates down that had a fresh burger and a few crunchy fries on it.

"Here, Alan." Virgil gripped my bicep as he pulled me forward, "why don't you sit between Dad and Scott?"

I sent Virgil an 'are-you-crazy' look, but he swiftly ignored it and pushed me down into my seat, while he went to the chair opposite me. John came wandering downstairs about then, a pencil tucked behind his ear as he sat down next to Virgil and opposite Gordon.

I was currently free. No one was in range enough to grab me if I ran, and I did have a few years of track behind me, so I wouldn't be to lousy at running.  
"Okay boys," Dad sat down next to me quickly, and I glanced to my other side as Scott sat down too. "Let's pray."

I allowed Scott and Dad to take my hands in theirs as they murmured a soft thanks for their food. It was short and sweet.

As my hands were released, guilt swept through me again at the sight of my wrists. Just because they were bandaged didn't mean that they're true form was gone. They were ugly and scarred. They were horrendous, and slowly torturing my family.

No.

My inner-self was slowly torturing my family. My weak self. The one who couldn't stand with all the put downs and the teases. And what kind of wimp got upset over teasing? It's what siblings did.

I was such a pansy.

So stupid. I was the laughing stock of international Rescue.

"Alan, you can eat, it's okay." John called across the table, his baby blue eyes staring into mine, as if daring me to defy him. But John wasn't a darer. He was daring when it came to writing, or star-gazing, but otherwise, he was quite level-headed. Perhaps my most respected brother.

So, I was a little shocked at the dare that was screaming in his eyes.

"I know," I murmured, awkwardly picking up my burger with my bandaged hand.

"What happened?" Gordon asked, nodding at my hand as he pushed a chip into his mouth.

"Allie had an accident." Virgil stated, his gaze lingering on my hand for a moment, before he turned to Gordon, "he burnt himself on the stove."

"Oh shit," Gordon swore quickly, ignoring the disapproving glare that our Father shot him. "Are you okay, Allie?"

I nodded quickly, a little stunned at his concern. I ducked my head, grabbing my burger a little harder and biting into it. I was stupid for doing something so reckless in front of Scott and Dad. I should've waited until I was alone.

But, I'm not going to be alone anymore. At least, not until I was better. But, I wasn't going to get better any time soon.

I exhaled, dropping my burger onto my plate and squeezing my eyes shut for a brief moment. I needed to think of a plan. It shouldn't be to hard, because Gordon was good at plans, and I was always his second-in-command when it came to pranks.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" I asked, turning to Scott, before glancing at Dad. "Please."

No one said anything for a moment, and I was feeling a little bit smug, because I had used my manners, which was pretty rare for me. So I was hoping it got me off on a good spot.

"I'm busting." I pressed when no one said anything. I was about to push my chair back and just go on my own, when Gordon stood up quickly.

"I'll take him."

No.

"Okay," our Father gave the Jefferson Tracy nod, while casting me a curious glance, which I tried to ignore.

"Come on, Sprout." Gordon forced a chuckle as he lead me out of the dining room and up the stairs to the hallways that had our bedrooms, and the single bathroom. There were also bathrooms in our bedrooms, but I think they were just for night-time stops.

"Gordo," I murmured as we stopped outside the bathroom. "I can go alone."

Gordon glanced at me, the peaked into the bathroom. He seemed to think about it for a moment, and I became excited, until he shook his head.

"Sorry Al, but I'll just turn my back or something. Rule was to not leave you alone, especially while you're feeling all kinds of weird and not thinking straight."

I was already an emotional wreck, so keeping the tears at bay from his words was hard, but do-able.

"I can go to the bathroom by myself," I pressed, but Gordon just shook his head, resting his palm on my back as he pushed me into the bathroom, stepping in behind me.

"Hurry up, little brother."

This wasn't how I planned it.

"I don't hear any tinkling."

I wanted to scowl at his choice of words, but I ignored them as I quickly snatched the clippers off the vanity, and then manoeuvred myself in front of the toilet as Gordon glanced over his shoulder.

I frowned, "I can't do anything with you staring at me."

Gordon rolled his eyes, but turned away, and I took the time to slip the nail clippers into the bend of my underwear.

Once I finished doing my business, I washed my hands then followed Gordon out of the bathroom.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" He questioned with a smirk, but I chose to ignore it. If they really wanted me to stop, they'd pay a little more attention.

But, they didn't. It's like they just wanted an excuse to baby somebody.

I took my seat between Dad and Scott again, reaching for my burger as Scott smiled at me gently. Lunch didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would, and soon enough Gordon and Virgil were clearing away the dishes. I just looked at my palms awkwardly, feeling the cool metal of the nail clipper as it dug against my skin.

"Hey, Alan," John called across the table, shooting me a lopsided grin, "want to have a game of volleyball in the pool?"

I blinked, a little surprised at the invitation to join my brothers in a game. Usually they didn't want me, because them teams were uneven and it wasn't fair for whoever was stuck with me. I found myself nodding, ready to finally play a proper game with my brothers, when I remembered why I had never been invited before. I froze my nodding quickly and instead shook my head.  
John's face fell a little, but Scoff was quick to butt in as Gordon cleared my plate.

"Dad'll play! That way, our teams will be even. Right dad?" Scott looked over my head, and I turned my head to, to stare up at my dad who grimaced.

"I don't know boys, I have a lot of work to do-" he glanced down at me, and his unsure look quickly swapped to a smile. "Actually, I'm sure I could fit in a few games."

They were babying me. Treating me like I was three and just wanted attention. When in actual fact, I wanted them to leave me alone. They had never cared before, why start now?

"I'm a waste of oxygen." The thought rushed through me so quickly, I almost didn't realise I spoke it.

A sharp intake of breath to my left had me snapping my head to Scott, who was frowning at me.

"What?" I mumbled, looking down quickly.

"You're not a waste of anything, Al. You're Alan Tracy, fifth son of Jefferson and Lucille Tracy. You have four big brothers who would die for you, and two amazing best friends. You're smarter than you think, and you have a skill at running. You blew up a lab once? It shows how unique you are. You're a curious being. Thats not a bad thing, Alan."

My own breathing hitched at the end of Scott's fast rant, and I don't think anyone had much time to move as tears dribbled from my eyes slowly, before bursting into full water-works. Scott was the first to move, pushing his chair back and then grabbing my own and pulling it back. He pulled me into a tight hug which I accepted with open arms.

"You've had a pretty crap life, Allie. We understand that. You've suffered for so long, so let's finally put an end to it, okay? Let's turn those scars to stars."  
I felt a watery chuckle escape my lips at Scott's lame version of a joke, but that's as far as it got.

"Now let's go and play some volleyball."

And we did.

I wouldn't exactly call it a fun game, since I couldn't hit the ball with my burnt hand, and Dad wasn't skilled enough to really apply as a player. But basically, it was Gordon, myself and John, against Dad, Scott and Virgil.

Scott and Virgil were pouncing for the ball like mad men, hitting their heads together on occasion, and Gordon and John were arguing about whose ball it was. At some stage I had reached forward to hit the oncoming ball, but Gordon had suddenly swam under water, like the Aquanaut he was, and had pushed up just below me so I was sitting on his shoulders.

That had turned into a wrestle.

Virgil had anxiously pulled the net down and scrambled onto Dads shoulders, while John heaved himself up onto Scott's shoulders.

Virgil urged Dad to swim over to me and Gordon, because I was trying to grip Gordon's hair, and therefore wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings. And Gordon was gripping my hands, trying to make me stop pulling at his hair, so we weren't prepared for Virgil to come launching into us, as he pushed himself off Dads shoulders. He grabbed me around my waist and sent me flying backward and off Gordon's shoulders. I landed in the water with a splash, while I snorted with laughter.

It wasn't humorous for long, though. I choked on the water that was surrounding me and Virgil, and suddenly I couldn't get any air into my lungs. It was all water. I went to cough it out, but only inhaled more, sending it up nose painfully, and twisting down my throat.

"Crap!" I think that was John's voice, but I couldn't be sure. Everything sounded disfigured and weird. I did notice, however, when I was pulled out of the water and bent over the side of the pool. A hand pounded on my back, making me cough more vigorously, and I was tempted to shout and whoever was doing it, but as I opened my mouth, water came spewing out.

So harsh that it hurt my throat.

"Alan?" Dad.

"Allie, oh God, I'm so sorry!" Dad. Scotty.

"Al?" I could still feel the water surrounding me. Suffocating me. Dragging me under.

"Get him out." Someone.

My body was dragged from the water, and I could feel my wrists and hand becoming naked, the bandages peeling off and dripping into the pool.

But I didn't care at the moment. I was rolled onto my side, and more water came spewing out of my open mouth.

Johnny.

"Allie?" A hand rested on my back. Firm and steady. Trusting. Everything my life wasn't.

"Come here," John's unmistakable voice echoed through my mind, and I was brought up into a sitting position as I blinked wearily, finally forming faces in my mind.

But I still felt like I was suffocating.

I was always suffocating. And no one ever saved me.

Not Virgie. Not Gordy.

Not Dad.

Not Scott.

Not John.

A strong and comforting arm wrapped around my shoulders tightly, and a towel followed suit, giving me some warmth.

"Are you with us, Al?"

I found myself nodding, although I was shaking. Someone asked me how many fingers they were holding up, and my voice said a number. It was correct. Which confused me, because my mind was running through a dark tunnel.

"Allie?"

I was dizzy.

"Alan."

My eyes snapped shut, then opened slowly. This time, instead of a dark tunnel, I was welcome with Gordon kneeling in front of me, and Johns protective arm around me.

"What happened?"

"I was lost in a tunnel of misery." I snapped, harsher than I first intended.

"What?" Gordon blinked, looking a little shocked, and Johns arm tensed around me.

"Not like you care," I spat hatefully, while mentally scolding myself. Getting angry at them wouldn't help anything.

... And what scared me, was that I didn't care either. What if I had died just then? Would they be sad? Agonised? Desperate for me return?

I wish I could swap with mum. It was a stupid trade. Mum died and they were stuck with a snot-nosed brother. Frustrating son.

Maybe I could die.

"Alan."

My gaze snapped back to Gordon, and I noticed as Dad and Virgil came through the back door, a first aid kit in Virgil's hand and towels in Dads.  
Gordon moved without hesitation as Virgil knelt down in front of me, taking my wrists and hand in his own gentle ones.

"I'm so sorry, Al."

I shrugged.

I was pushed back gently, onto my back, and then rolled onto my side. I blinked in confusion, but then saw Dads face as he smiled at me gently.

"Just in case you have any more water to empty out." He explained gently, pushing my wet hair back. "That gave us a bit of a fright."

I'm sure.

He frowned a little, but shook it off as he turned to watch someone and talk to them, but by then, I could feel my mind growing foggy, and darkness was swirling around my vision, beckoning me toward it.

Well, darkness was good. So I accepted it, letting it completely cloud my vision.


	4. Chapter 4

You guys *blushes* thanks for reviewing! I don't think I've had this fun with a fanfic, in, well, ages. So to all you who pestered me to continue, thank you :D  
Disclaimer: don't own -.- damn. Wish I did, but nope.

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I blinked against the light that was digging and prying at my eyelids, forcing my shut eyes to open blearily. I blinked, glancing around carefully, noticing my curtains, which were drawn shut, but weren't thick enough to hold out the shine of the the sun. I wasn't under the blankets, but rather, sprawled across them. I had a pillow on either side of me, as well as one under my head, and my wrists were upturned, showing my deep dark secrets to the world.

For a moment, panic welled inside me, and I hurriedly pushed them under the pillows on either side of me, but a larger warm hand wrapped around my wrist gently. My head snapped upward as I glanced into the eerie blue eyes, so much like mine. The platinum blonde hair that swept across John's right eyes, was pushed back and John leaned forward, sending me a warm and kind smile.

"You're alright," he breathed, as if reassuring me.

Once again, I tore at my wrist, trying to hide it, but it was too late. John ran his thumb across the horrid scars, and my breathing hitched as he glanced down at the zigzagged red lines scrawled across my wrists. But he didn't repel with anger, or disappointment, if anything, concern filtered across his eyes.

Why wasn't he getting angry at me? Where was everyone else? Had they seen my scars and ran? Left me? Was John the only one who still loved me?

I shamefully felt tears pool in my eyes, but John was quick to wipe them away, while smiling at me reassuringly.

"Hey, Allie, what's wrong? You're okay."

His hand found mine, and I hissed as pain seared up my arm.

With that pain, came memories.

Everyone knew. My family. They all knew. And we had been playing volleyball in the pool, which turned to wrestling, which turned to me being dunked under. I vaguely remember burning my hand, which explained the pain that shot up my palm and arm just moments ago.

"You hate me." I stated, feeling a tear drip over the side of my face, but John leaned up and wiped it away quickly, while moving to sit on the bed next to me. He pulled me up, wrapping his arms around my shoulders tightly and pulling me against him.

"No." His voice was firm and steady. "We could never hate you."

He sounded so sincere, it just pushed at me even more. Another tear dribbled out of the corner of my eye, much to my shame.

"Then you're disappointed in me."

John didn't answer straight away, and I choked on another sob as I curled into myself, covering my face with my hands as tears dribbled from my eyes. Like cracks, leaking with fatal acid. This would be the death of me.

My shoulders quaked as I shook my head vigorously, trying to slow my tears. My face was soaked with water, and I was breathing raggedly, but John's arm never unwrapped from around my shoulders. He kept a firm and strong hold on me, while whispering words of comfort into my hair.

"I don't warm to feel like this," I whispered over a strangled sob, but John shushed me, while cupping the back of my head and turning me in his arms. I reached up with shaking arms, and wrapped them tightly around his shoulders, while pressing my head to his shoulder.

"You have the power to stop it," John sighed, carding his fingers through my hair gently. "Come on."

I felt him shuffle beneath me, and then he was pulling me off my bed and into a standing position. A wave of dizziness hit me, and I felt like I was about to topple over, but John wrapped his arm around my shoulders again, pulling me against him.

"Thanks," I breathed, feeling light-headed. John didn't say anything, and I had to remember that he was the silent brother. Rarely spoke.

We trekked out of my room, John's arm still around my shoulders tightly. We moved down into the kitchen, and I got a glance out the window, at the navy sky, with the little eyes twinkling and blinking. And the Mother of all those eyes, looking like a bright toenail contrasting against the dark night sky.  
How long had I been out for?

In the kitchen, Gordon was sitting on the bench, digging at his finger nails with a pocketknife, while Virgil cooked soup over the stove. As John walked in with me, Gordon brushed his red hair back and jumped off the counter, tucking the pocketknife in his pocket. My eyes watched it go, but I quickly tore them back up to meet Gordon's as he moved over to me and John. His hand shot out, ruffling my hair gently as he pulled me from John's grip.

John let me go, and I watched as he walked out of the kitchen, probably off to find Dad and Scott. But that didn't bother me at the moment, I was to busy being suffocated by Gordon's rough hug.

"Gordy-" I managed, reaching up to tug at his shirt, but Gordon sniffled and I froze, my hand clenched into a fist against his shirt. "Gordy?"

"I do care."

"What?"

"I do care," he stressed out, clinging to me tighter. "I'll always care."

Oh.

"I know," I mumbled, shame heating at my cheeks. But Gordon ignored it and shook his head furiously, pulling back a little. My own heart tore to see tears welling in his own eyes.

"You don't know, Allie. You wouldn't have said it if you did."

"I-" I was cut off once again as Gordon hugged me tighter. My ribs felt like they were about to snap, and I have no doubt they would've, if Scott hadn't walked in at that moment.

"Gordon, you're going to kill him."

It was meant to be humorous, I think. But, Gordon didn't see it that way. He just recoiled away from me, like I was the top of a stove and burning. He then spun on his heel and left the kitchen, tearing his shirt off as he did so, and it was obvious to everyone in the kitchen that he was going to swim.  
Virgil sighed, shutting the stove off and pushing the soup to the back of the stove.

"I'll go," he spoke to Scott, while bending down a little in front of me. "Glad you're awake."

I wasn't.

Virgil ruffled my hair gently, then quickly followed the steps Gordon had left with. When he was gone, Scott gripped my shoulders with a gentle but firm hold, turning me around.

"Dad wants to talk to you."

"About?"

Scott didn't say anything, but I felt like he screamed it at me.

"Oh."

Scott exhaled, bending down to squat in front of me. He glanced up at me as he took my wrists in his hands, twisting them around and looking at the ragged scars. Humiliation burned within me, cutting through my chest sharply.

"Allie, we want to help."

Well, stop.

Scott shook his head, as if he had heard my unspoken demand. His fingers trailed my scars gently, as if touching a painting, and memorising it.  
"Are you- No. Have you cut anywhere else?"

I chomped on my lower lip, feeling the skin cut under my teeth and blood gush into my mouth. The iron taste made me gag, but I welcomed it as I looked at Scott. Scott's gaze had travelled to my lips, and he inhaled, before exhaling again, standing up straight.

"Let's clean that, before you go to Dad." He gripped my bicep gently, pulling me from the kitchen and up to the bathroom where he wet a washer and then bent down in front of me, placing it to my lips, as if I was a little boy. "You never answered my question."

I shrugged in response. Once upon a time, I cut my thighs. But that had been pointless and it was harder to hide whenever we changed for track - when I did track. Whereas I could always wear sweat bands on my wrists.

Scott sighed, leading me out of the bathroom and down to Dad's office. Inside, John was talking to Dad in a hushed tone, but upon our arrival, he straightened up and sent Dad a curious glance.

Dad stood, gesturing for me to enter, and for John to leave, which he did, but not without shooting me a warm smile. I turned around, double-checking with Scott if I should go in, and Scott simply nodded, wrapping his arm around John's shoulder as he went out the door.

I turned back to Dad, to see him homing a somewhat sad smile. As if the thought of me turning to Scott for directions had simply torn him up.

I wanted to break down all over again. No matter what I did, I was hurting somebody. It really made me question my existence. Why couldn't I just die?  
Please.

Why couldn't this all just be over.

"Alan." Dad called gently, and I snapped my head up to look at him. The Famous Jefferson Tracy. "Have a seat."

I held the washcloth to my lip as I moved across the room with hesitant steps. Sitting made me vulnerable. But I did it anyway, resting back into the chair that my Father had gestured at.

When I was situated comfortably, Dad leaned forward, resting his folded hands on the desk.

"Allie, talk to me."

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It'll be a change of P.O.V in one of the upcoming chapters. Not the next one, but probably the one after. But, I shall keep you updated with it, so you know who it'll be.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Still don't own it :/**

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"Firstly," my Father spoke when I didn't say anything. Dad placed a small metal object on the wooden desk in front of him, and I mentally cringed. I had to hide things better. "We found these."

I shrugged, glancing away as I continued to hold the wash cloth to my mouth.

"Don't shrug," Dad remarked gently, sliding the nail clippers back into his palm and then tucking them away into his pocket, "Al, when did you plan on doing anything with them?"

I shrugged again, still trying to not look at him, but with my Fathers intense glare it was becoming hard. Harder.

"Okay," he breathed, pushing his chair back and standing up, "that's obviously leading us to a dead-end."

I titled my head around to watch as he walked around the desk, gesturing for me to follow him to the couch in the corner, looking out across the island. I stood, following Dad over there, and sitting beside him. It looked hard on him, but it was just as hard on me.

I was the one that they were cornering.

"Alan," he spoke gently, as if choosing his words carefully. He reached forward, pulling my wrists onto his lap, so he could see them easier. "I won't force you to stop."

I blinked in confusion, "what?"

Dad exhaled, shaking his head, "I can't force you to stop. No one can. It's something you need to decide." His fingers twitched slightly over my cuts, but I don't think he realised that I felt it. "But, and I'm saying this with as much remorse and sadness that I can account for, but if you don't get better soon, I'll be forced to send you to a clinic on the mainland."

My breath hitched and I found myself shaking my head vigorously as I pulled away from my Father. Tears pooled in my eyes instantly, and I hated myself more as they trekked down my cheeks. I cried to much for a Tracy.

"Alan-"

"You're going to get rid of me." I choked over my words, barely getting anything out as I struggled to breathe properly. I felt myself slipping away as what my father just said sank in. I knew this would happen, I kept telling myself it would.

"No, I'm not getting rid of you!"

"Yes, you are!" I felt my defences go up as I stood up and stumbled backward, pressing my back against the window. Fear was gripping at my heart, and slowly tearing it up.

"Alan." Dad stood up, too. He walked over to me, but slowly, and with his palms help upward, as if warding off an enemy.

Was I the enemy? Was I worse than I originally thought?

"I just want to stay here," I whimpered, willing the tears to stop, and trying desperately to calm myself down. "On the island, with you guys."

"Alan, you were basically feeling repelled against us, not 24 hours ago." Jeff Tracy took a step toward me, but I was quick to move away, sliding past him. I hurried for the door, but my dads arms wrapped around me from behind.

"I never said that," I breathed out through my tears. Dad spun me around, looking down at me as if I was a bowl that needed to be filled with pity and sympathy. I choked on another sob as dad slowly pulled me over to the couch, where he set me down. "I don't want you to throw me away. Not again."

"Again?!"

"Again." I confirmed.

My dad looked at me for a moment, before sorrow filled his eyes and he knelt in front of me.

"Alan, I send you to school. There's a difference."

Not in my eyes. It all involves sending me away. So I wasn't at home.

"I didn't realise it had such a horrible effect on you."

"I told you!" I had. It's the one subject that we fought about, next to International Rescue.

"Alan," my father sighed, taking my hands in his gently, "I want you to have a good education."

"Why I can't just be home-schooled?"

Dad sighed, looking at the floor and shaking his head gently, "that's not going to happen. We just don't have the time to teach you, with international rescue."

I blinked at the fresh batch of tears that stung my eyes. I was never first priority.

Never.

I glanced at my lap.

"Sorry." I gasped, standing up and walking around dad. I didn't give him time to grab me again as I tore his study door open and rushed out.

I was always the useless one. No one wanted me, not really. I should really just die. Just die, so they don't have to worry anymore. I passed the kitchen, where my brothers were sitting and talking lowly, but as I passed, they all glanced at each other, before chairs were scraped back and I heard them calling after me.

I hurried up the stairs and went into my room, slamming the door behind me. A moment later, my door was being shoved open, but I pushed against it.

"Alan!"

"Go away!" I insisted, keeping my back firmly against the door as I looked at the key on my bedside table. "Stop!"

"Alan!"

I sighed, shutting my eyes slightly and waiting to feel the pressure against the door loosen some. It took a moment, but I gradually heard my fathers feet hitting the stairs, and whoever was at the door, stepped back. I took my chance to grab the key from my side table, and then jammed it in my door lock as my fathers noticeable grip twisted the door handle.

I stepped back in satisfaction as my father cursed.

"Alan!"

I shook my head, stepping back and sitting on my bed, resting my head in my hands. Why did I have to have live? It wasn't fair.

Sighing, I glanced at the small balcony attached to my bedroom. A small, terrible thought filtered across my mind, but I shrugged it off as I rolled my shoulders, standing up.

I glanced at the door once more, obvious banging going on the other side, but I paid it no mind as I turned back to my balcony, rolling my shoulders gently.

I pushed open the door that lead onto the balcony, and stepped into the crazy wind. It was basically pushing me toward the edge, where I stumbled and gripped the railing.  
I was panicking, but at the same time, I was relaxed.

With shaking hands and legs, I hoisted myself over the railing, so I was sitting on it, looking down at the concrete ground. If I jumped, I'd probably break my legs, but if I flipped and landed on my head, I'd mostly likely die.

Right?

"Alan!" The pounding on the door behind me grew louder, but I blocked it out. I blocked everything out, except for the tears that dribbled down my cheeks. My hands clenched on either side of me as I gripped the wall and stood up on the railing. My head hit the gutter and I glanced up, before a new idea hit me. I stepped back a little, clutching the gutter and hauling myself up onto the roof.

I think in heard my bedroom door bang open, followed by muffled shouts, but I had pulled myself up onto the roof by then, and was trudging along to the highest point.  
I stopped when I came to it, and glanced down at the concrete below me. I felt dizzy, and stumbled back a little as I clutched my head.

What was I doing?

This wasn't the answer.

I choked on a sob as I stumbled back again, and into someone's awaiting arms.  
"I've got you, little brother, it's okay." Scott shushed, wrapping me up in his arms, hugging me to his taught chest.

"I didn't want to feel like this," I sobbed, clutching his shirt tightly. "Make it stop."

"I will."

And for once someone sounded so sure of themselves, that it made me feel a little more positive about it.


End file.
